


River Pale and Flash of Stars

by Ramzes



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-03-22 10:13:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13761948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramzes/pseuds/Ramzes
Summary: Ser Dunkan the Tall and his squire do their best to stay unnoticed as the Great Spring Sickness ravages Westeros. And they aren't doing a very good job. Not near Starfall, anyway.





	1. A Meeting by the River

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dunk & Egg Collection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13566189) by [ariel2me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariel2me/pseuds/ariel2me). 



The river was close, Dunk could say it by the roar… and just this. The thick mist enveloping everything did not let him see his fingers when he extended his hand. He could see no inns, no houses. Certainly not the river.

"Come on!" Egg urged and tried to urge his mule forward but the animal was more reasonable than the boy: he tosses his head this way and that – at least that was what Dunk deduced, judging by the steam of exhaled air hitting him as he led Thunder forward – and did not change the slow, reluctant rhythm of its hooves.

"Hold back, boy!" Dunk ordered. "With this cloud hiding everything, you may find yourself deep to the neck in this river and then I'll give you a clout in the ear."

"Only if you see me, Ser," came the cheeky reply and Dunk had to admit his squire had the right of it. He could make Egg's whereabouts by the sound of his voice. Perhaps. But the boy would not stand still and wait for the clout.

Another echo broke the night. Hooves. And a cart. The night air and the proximity of the river made the rattle sound ten times more powerfully until Dunk felt that he had to press his hands against his ears. He could not, of course, because he had to keep Thunder.

The sound came close, breaking the feeling that Dunk, Egg, and the two animals were the only living things in an endless night. He had heard that Dorne was scarcely populated but this was too much. Had they gotten the village wrong? This was supposed to be the fishing village from which the boats to Starfall left. Not that Dunk would board a boat right now. But this village was supposed to have houses and inns and he could not see anything. On the other hand, he could not _see_ anything.

The yellow circle of a lantern cut through the thick veil of shimmering white and Dunk blinked. The light was close to him and somewhat… down. The lantern hung on the donkey's neck.

"The Seven keep you!" a deep voice spoke. "Are you headed for Starfall?"

Dunk could almost feel how Egg tensed. Since Dunk had agreed to take the boy to visit Egg's mother's place of birth, the boy had showed surprising eagerness and alacrity. Really, what would another day matter? The huge knight remembered to himself that he could not, in fact, know. A mother's name – which was all Egg had – was still more than the nothing _he_ had.

"Are you coming from the Prince's Pass?" the man asked after agreeing to lead them to one of the inns from where they could take a boat in the morning. "Is it true that there is a terrible disease decimating the people of the realm?"

"We heard something like this before we passed," Dunk replied and felt the recoiling, the fear. To the man's credit, he did not renege on his promise to take them to a place with a ceiling. There was honour to this one.

As they advanced, the roar of the Torrentine became more furious. The closest they went, the more capable Dunk became to hear the different strings to it. _This must be a hell of torrents clashing there,_ he thought and strained his hearing for the desperate wails of an unfortunate soul caught in this invisible, swirling white hell…

The moment they entered the inn, the mist gathered about their persons turned to water and started pouring all over the stone floor. It had been a while since they had last bathed and Dunk would have appreciated the cleaning if he was not so damned cold. His teeth clattering, he headed for the fireplace, filled with logs burning huge and nice. Dorne was supposed to be the hottest place in Westeros, yet each night seemed to be colder than the last one.

Egg stood next to him, extending his hands towards the fire to get them warm. Overall, he looked better accustomed to this cold than Dunk. Perhaps it was his mother in him? Dyanna Dayne had been born here. To her, such weather and impenetrable mist would be all she had known in her early life. A night like this was extremely conducive to summoning wraiths from where they lived. Out of habit, Dunk looked around, almost expecting to see the lady's wraith rise from the rushes on the floor.

It did not. Instead, the only other guest, a man sitting at one of the tables glanced at them and then his look intensified, focusing on Egg. Dunk felt a familiar stir of worry that only intensified when the man rose and came to the fireplace. In the light of the flames, his hair looked as silver-white as Prince Maekar's or Aerion's. Despite the mud on his boots and cloak, his clothing was finer than everything Ser Arlan could have afforded. And these eyes, still on Egg… too focused. Dunk's hand stole to his sword.

The man laughed. "I wasn't going to do anything," he said and Dunk realized that he had not been as stealthy as he had thought. _Dunk the Lunk and nothing else_. "Dare I suppose that the two of you might be headed for Starfall?"

Egg sharply turned his head to look at him. Dunk would have gladly given him a clout in the ear but he could not. Not when the man was looking at them. "No, m'lord," he said. "We were headed for…"

"Sunspear," Egg finished quicky, although Dunk could see his reluctance. He appreciated the loyalty, though. "We're looking for employment with some lord, us being poor wanderers and all," he added.

The man raised a fair eyebrow. "Well, I can have some use of you, me being the Lord of Starfall and all," he replied and nodded, as if he had made up his mind. "Yes, you're coming with me."

Dunk could see the joy on Egg's face and then, the suspicion. The boy could not fail to notice what even a thick hedge knight had realized: they could go but would they be allowed to leave? "I don't think so, m'lord,"he said. "I don't think your employment is what we're looking for."

The Lord of Starfall huffed. All of a sudden, Dunk realized what made him distrustful. With this fair hair and the slender refinement of his features, Lord Dayne was a second Aerion, just older.

This fact did not instill Dunk with trust.

"I don't think you understood me, Ser Dunkan the Tall," Lord Dayne said in a low voice. "I am not offering you my employment. I'm telling you what we're going to do if the two of you are to survive the next months. Three days ago, all passes and ports were closed. Dorne will wait the end of this plague out. But there have been enough travels and traders passing by already, so there will be people checking all our areas to make sure that the sickness had not made it in. At such moments, brigands abound. I will not have Aegon roam about with only a single knight as his sole company. So you're coming with me… and in the meantime, you can tell me how the two of you ended up with each other."

'No," Egg said flatly.

Lord Dayne merely shrugged. "As you wish," he said. "We can just listen to the river instead. I did it often, together with your mother, when we were your age."

The boy did not reply but listened to the voice of the river more intently, stared out through the window of stretched bull-bladder. For a mere moment, an arrow of thin light shot through the mist, revealing a vast expanse of rippling white just beyond the window. The Torrentine. Dunk noticed the expression that both the man and the boy followed the falling star with and wondered what they were thinking about.

 


	2. Entering the Seat of Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Golden_Daughter and Riana1, for commenting!

Dunk did his best to ignore the shaking and the increasing energy behind it but when it became painful, he had to admit to himself that it would not go away, so he opened his eyes. Next to him, Egg was muttering that it was too early.

"But the river has calmed down," Lord Dayne replied. "We're leaving."

Something in his voice told Dunk that it was better not to argue, so he rose and went to splash his face with water from the fountain in the yard of the inn. He had no nightclothes – these were too much of a luxury, he had changed the ones he wore just three days ago, and there was no use to give the inn lice more room to settle themselves in, although, come to think of it, he felt no urge to scratch his skin off.

The boy seemed to have noticed the same thing. "Have the lice started running when they saw you, my lord?" he asked innocently, staring at his uncle wide-eyed.

Lord Dayne chuckled. "Many years ago, your father spent the night here," he said. "It was a lucky night for the good innkeeper. When the lice tasted your father's blood, they caught a cold and died."

For the first time, Dunk saw his squire speechless, instead of raising a fierce defense. He would have but he was a moment late and when he opened his mind, Lord Dayne was already ushering them through the door; when they were already in the boat, his face was so dark and distant that even Egg lost any desire to provoke him further.

The river whispered against the brightening sky and Dunk had trouble believing that it was the same monster that had roared in so many voices from its countless heads the night before. As the sun popped up a golden head, the Torrentine rippled around them, as smooth and glossy as a new banner of pure silk. Still, Dunk was pleased that he was seated. The slight shifting under his feet made him feel faintly nauseous. Egg, though, walked here and there, leaning overboard to better see a fish or bird, causing Lord Dayne to snap a brief order for him to sit down than once that the boy couldn't follow for more than a few moments. A few times, the Dornishman shot a quick hand to grab him and prevent him from falling straight into the river, after which Egg just kept nibbling at the loaf of bread the innkeeper's wife had given him since there had been no time for breakfast. He only stopped once or twice to ask about the people who lived underwater and were currently talking to him. He sounded so convinced that Dunk actually looked down to look for them.

"I hear them from time to time," Lord Dayne said, unsurprised. "Or at least I think I do. My son claims they talk to him all the time and your mother did as well."

"Really? She did?" The longing was writ so plain on the boy's face that Dunk felt a pang of something that he did not recognize. When had he become so fond of the little trouble?

Lord Dayne smiled, albeit barely. "Really. She loved this river. It sung to her more than it did any of us, I think. Except for my son, perhaps."

Egg was about to ask another question but this distant look had come again and Dunk knew that whatever they asked, the man would not hear them.

The castle rose before them like a flower growing from the earth faster than anything that Dunk had seen, its silhouettes gaining details and adornments in the process. Stunned, Dunk realized it was whiter than Whitewalls, despite being much older. Time seemed to have stopped for it. A marble beauty of a castle that looked cast for being admired and not lived in but when they came closer, a stream of men and women poured out of a gate that was suddenly opened. Dunk looked up and saw a tower jutting sharply above the very water and in the window, a silhouette, hair gleaming like a halo of spun silver in the shadow of the room. Then, the woman disappeared and Dunk was left blinking, wondering of the bright Dornish sun, now shining in full bloom, was mocking him.

Egg had stopped his hopping. Indeed, he had become very quiet, his eyes immediately going to the woman who hurried over to the water, actually wetting the hem of her gown as she waited for them to come ashore. No, not them. She only had eyes for his uncle who turned visibly pale. "Mother? Is he…"

"No," she said quickly. "Not… yet. But he's been getting worse. I'm glad you're back."

Without saying anything, he headed past her and disappeared through the gate. For a while, she stared at the river without seeing it and the expression of her face was like the one Dunk had seen on Prince Daeron's face as he had described the great falling dragon… Hopeless. But it was not just the expression. The dark brown hair, the not quite fair skin and something about the mouth… Young Daeron had undoubtedly taken after this woman in appearance. Egg's _grandmother_. The boy shifted his weight, as if he actually wanted to approach her but she did not see him, although she was looking straight at them. She did not see anything.

The boy came to the small chamber that the castellan had sent them in as they were still taking their meager belongings. He entered without knocking and Dunk was surprised that it made any impression on him. It must be Egg's malefic influence, he thought sourly. He had never taken notice of knocks on his door or something like this. He had never had a door on which to knock.

"Father said you were my cousin," the boy said immediately. "Is it true?"

Egg gave him a look of caution. The boy was dressed as finely as Egg did when he was Prince Aegon, only he did not wear any sigils. But his tunic was soft, his boots gleaming and his hair, freshly washed. Dark hair. He was all dark. Darker than Tanselle. Compared to Egg, he looked positively ebony. Black of hair, black of eye. He looked nothing like Lord Dayne which meant that he looked nothing like Aerion. Dunk looked at him with a kindly feeling because of this but Egg folded his arms.

"It may be," he said, clearly remembering that he did not want any Dayne relatives and he did not want to stay here at all. Dunk suspected it was easier for him to feel this way when he was staring at someone who looked nothing like a Dayne relative.

The other boy laughed, unperturbed. "Not quite sure I'm telling the truth, are you?" he asked. He was about Egg's age and something in the look he cast the other boy reminded Dunk of the sly looks Egg sometimes cast him. "I _am_ Vorian Dayne," he said. "And he is my father. For real."

"If you say," Egg said, still with some doubt in his voice. "So, you claim to be talking to some people who live in the Torrentine? _In_ the river?"

His haughty derision of a rational person hearing nonsense made Dunk's jaw drop. Why was he trying to start a fight anyway? But Vorian did not seem to even register the challenge. The laughter in his eyes died, he swallowed and looked away. "This is Arthur," he said. "He's ill. He was struck by a thunderbolt a few years ago and they said it did something to his heart and muscles. They say he won't live long."

Egg drew back, stunned and regretful already. Vorian looked at him and clearly made an effort to regain his good spirits. "Do you want to see Dawn?" he asked. "Or should I bring you to our lady grandmother first? She wants to see you."

Dunk had heard much of the ancestral sword of House Dayne – as much from Egg as from all others combined – and he did not doubt what the boy's own preference would be.

"Let's go to her," Egg said instead and Dunk felt a ridiculous, misplaced wave of pride.

 


	3. The Way of Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented, you're a great support system for my inspiration!

Half a day and a good sleep later, Dunk woke up to no Egg around. He blinked the sleep off his eyes and looked around, taking in his bearings. He was not in an inn, this much was clear. Too quiet. A castle? The memory came rushing back and he almost shot to his feet before reasoning out that Starfall was the place the boy's mother had been born to. Egg's kin would not harm him, despite him knowing peculiarly little about them – at least, this was Dunk's impression. He waited patiently for about as much time as he needed to wash his face in the basin with water that might have even been hot at the time it had been brought to this small, simply appointed chamber for two. He had slept the entering of the maidservant but he suspected that Egg would have insisted on the water being warm. The boy was very sensitive where Dunk's dignity was concerned – or at least, where he thought it was. Dunk caught himself hoping that Egg had managed to enforce his will – not because he cared about the water being hot but because it would mean that Egg was important to these people who did not know him. Why, they might well turn out to be Prince Maekar's enemies! It happened in families, Dunk had heard. In the royal ones – even more.

It was about time that he found the boy. He walked down the halls, feeling more and more disoriented, and as he passed by servant girls, knights, and squires, some of his fear abated. This was a well-run place with people, not a back alley. Egg was surely safe. Dunk started looking around – this was his first castle, after all. Nothing like the inns he had been staying in or the hedge knights quarters that he had experience with. But after all, it was walls and floors and although the tapestries were lovely to look at, he wondered if their purpose was not to ward off winter as much as possible. Not so different from common people's dwellings, after all. Still fighting weather and all else…

Somehow, he found himself in a long gallery with portraits along both sides. A portrait gallery, Egg would call it. A gallery of Daynes old and new, this was. Splendid attires that looked outdated and funny, horses, the likes of which Dunk had never seen – they were likely the famed sand steed. Lord Dayne's violet eyes and the slight arrogance in the line of his jaw could be seen across many faces, repeating through the years. In many of the portraits, the dark river raged, the falling star flashed, and the milky sword cut the darkness. Dunk shivered, as if the dead would rise from the shadows to haunt him. He could not understand why highborn would want to keep the past with them. But then, for a hedge knight who had none, it was easy to say so.

Egg stood before the portraits at the far end of the gallery and Dunk felt overwhelmed with relief and at the same time, very stupid. Of course the boy was safe! Why should he not be? Vorian appeared from a door at the other end and Egg said something and the two of them walked away. Dunk slowly processed through the gallery as the Daynes around him became closer and closer to his own time, although the silver hair and the violet eyes kept appearing.

"Ah, I'm glad to see you're awake, Ser Duncan," a voice spoke, startling him from his considerations, and Lord Dayne appeared from the very wall at Dunk's left. A more careful look revealed that he had come, in fact, through a door almost the same colour as the white wall. Was it stone as well, Dunk wondered.

"Did you break your fast?" Ultor Dayne asked and Dunk blinked. His worry for the boy had stopped him from noticing the food in the small chamber. If, of course, someone had brought food on Egg's insistence at all. He muttered something unintelligible and then thought of something else.

"M'lord, what am I to do now?"

Ultor looked surprised. "How would I know? What do you _want_ to do?"

"I'm a hedge knight, m'lord. I am not much good for anything else."

"Not here, you aren't. Here, you are my nephew's companion… and don't be surprised if my lady mother sends for you. She's very happy to see Aegon but she'd like to hear about your travails."

The perspective of meeting a real lady was troublesome for Dunk. Egg had made many efforts to teach him to bow properly but with these big feet of his, it would never work. And his good clothes were not this good at all, and… "Why would she want to hear from me, m'lord, when Egg has undoubtedly told her all about it?"

"Because she doesn't believe a word of it," Lord Dayne replied dryly. Even so, he looked somewhat rested and calmer than he had been before they came here, and Dunk knew that the man's son still lived, else there would the sudden spark of amusement would not be there. "She's overjoyed to finally meet him but the story he put forth sounded quite incredible. I think the part about Maekar just letting him go with you was what both of us found most incredible."

This was the part that Dunk himself found most incredible as well. But there was something in the words… He squinted down at the man. "But you don't disbelieve it, my lord?"

"No," Ultor Dayne said. "This is just a story that I can totally see a nephew of mine get entangled in. Including convincing his father to let him do what he wants. I can't count the times I stood by and watched as my sister got her way with him. There's no way he's going to stand for this, I thought, but somehow, he usually did. I'm sorry I did not have the chance to know the boy better, as I should have." For a moment, a haunted look came across his face and it felt incredibly disconcerting for Dunk to see Aerion's face haunted. Somehow, it reminded him of Prince Maekar as well, that one time under the tree. The torment was just as evident. Shadows shifted in the slanted light and Dunk shivered. It looked as if the Dayne lady behind Ultor was moving away from her portrait to join them.

"He seems to find life here intriguing, my lord," Dunk offered hesitantly. "I haven't seen him since I woke up and I just saw him there…" He pointed at the end of the gallery.

Lord Dayne nodded. "I have no doubt that this was where you found him."

They were now walking between the two lines of Daynes who kept approaching their own time. Dunk tried to understand, could not.

"This is his mother," Ultor Dayne said softly, stopping right in front of the portrait the boy had been staring at.

Dunk looked at the lady. She did not look much of a lady, though. Younger than him. Dressed up like a lady all right, but there was this sparkle in her eyes that betrayed it for a ruse. Dunk had seen enough street urchins to recognize one, even if they were a girl. And a lady. The arrogant jaw was here, and the dark purple eyes, though her hair was black like midnight. Even so, Dunk realized who Egg resembled. The slender, spirited countenance had not come from Maekar and neither had the light in those eyes… although the Prince perhaps had had that light when he had let his lady wife wrap him around her little finger.

"She's beautiful," Dunk said.

"She was," Lord Dayne said and Dunk did not know if this was agreement or correction. But staring at the girl whose garments were those of a lady but not the ones that he had seen, the girl who was so young, he thought he understood why Egg was drawn to this portrait. The ones that existed of his mother at Summerhall were likely those of a princess, the woman that she had become. The boy did not look as If he knew about his mother's early life – or his mother as a whole – all this much. If Dunk were in his place, he would have wanted to see and learn as much as he could.

Lord Dayne turned his back to his sister's portrait, avoiding to look at the one that displayed her with his young self – they looked the same age. Were they twins? All that Dunk had heard about Prince Maekar's late Dornish wife was of her ravaged beauty and her promiscuity. No wonder at all, given the fact that she was a _Dornish_ wife.

"The two of you aren't going anywhere anytime soon," Lord Dayne suddenly said. "The sickness is spreading. Even at King's Landing, ships are no longer allowed to come to anchor. Too little, too late. You must stay here."

Dunk nodded. As much as he wanted to claim that he did not fear the Stranger, now he did. He had someone to fear for. It felt strange to think that after Ser Arlan's death, he had felt like he would be forever alone with the horses. "Then find me a job, m'lord. I can use the spear no worse than any man…" This wasn't quite true but Lord Dayne did not need to know this.

"I don't need any more knights," the Lord of Starfall said bluntly and Dunk was unpleasantly reminded of Prince Maekar saying almost the same thing. "But I think I need something from you. You should go to my master-at-arms. I believed Aegon's story and I particularly believed the bits he was careful not to say."

_You have experience_ , Dunk thought. Lady Dyanna Dayne's portrait had shown him what kind of girl she had been. A rascal. Like her son. He should have known. Prince Maekar might be many things but he was a liar as much as he was a kinslayer by intent.

"I gathered that you still have some things to learn," Lord Dayne said, more tactfully, and Dunk bristled. No one would insult him, even if they were right. "I think we will all sleep better if you're the best protector for Aegon that you can be."

After a long pause, Dunk nodded. Where Prince Maekar had failed, Lord Dayne's way with words had succeeded. He would get some quality training, after all.

 


	4. As Fair as Dawn

Starfall was everything a castle from the tales Dunk had heard from other hedge knights and Ser Arlan himself about – as white as snow, as tall as the sky and as busy as a small city. It had the required requisite of gallant knights – once Dunk got over Lord Dayne's resemblance to Aerion, he deemed the man a skilled warrior and a just magistrate – and the witch, the old Lady Dayne playing the part. Not that she was this old or had a wart on her nose or something but something about her aloof demeanor somehow differed from her son's aloofness, or even Prince Maekar's. She looked distanced from the world, unmoved by anything… and quite resentful of the company her youngest grandson had. Yes, she even thought she could have an opinion on this, albeit even Dunk the lunk, as thick as a castle wall, could say that a grandmother who had made no effort to see her grandson and only got to meet him because he had fallen into her lap, so to say, was hardly the doting kind, the one that was entitled to pretences.

"Maekar has clearly deteriorated worse than we thought," Dunk heard her say to her son once. "Sending Aegon with this boy? He might be a decent lad and all but Ser Calan says he has much to learn – and so do I! I do wish he had half of Arthur's manners."

"And I wish that Arthur had his health," Lord Dayne said bitterly which effectively shut Lady Elsbet up.

Rather uncharitably, Dunk wondered what this hostility between the witch lady and her goodson. It seemed to him that these two had much in common…

"Oh, Lady Elsbet doesn't like anyone she deems untowardly," Egg said later as he took care of Dunk's sword. "The squires say she wasn't always like this but since her husband died, her mind started wandering."

Vorian who was working on a gleaming dagger next to him cast him a swift look. "That is what one gets when they only associate with squires," he said and for the first time, Dunk heard in his voice derision that could rival his lady grandmother's. "Did it ever occur to you to ask me before you go around gossiping?"

Egg bristled. "I wasn't gossiping! I was merely gathering _information_."

The other boy did not grasp the difference. "Well, what information did you get, pray tell? Except for the claims that our grandmother was mad?"

"I didn't call her mad."

"You would have." Vorian looked at him expectantly. "So?"

The air got so cold that Dunk thought he could use a coat. There was nothing indicating that the two boys had been friendly since the moment they met. For the first time, Dunk noticed the resemblance between them. The different colouring did not matter. Their faces were twin images of anger.

"Let me tell you, then," Vorian said at last. "Just so you know why _her mind started wandering_ after losing another loved one. She survived the fall of Sunspear where every third man, woman, and child died. She saw murders, burnings, maimings, and ruins caused by _untowardly_ people, Cousin. And chief among them were your great-grandfather, as well as the King. The Young Dragon, they call him."

The Conquest of Dorne, Dunk knew. The boy was talking about the most glorious event in recent history – and viewed it in a way that was nothing like Dunk had ever seen. If Egg's silence could be taken as a sign of anything, he was unaware as well. _Of course he would be. With this Dornish mother of his… this_ Dayne _mother of his… how likely is it that Prince Maekar would have let such talks spread in Summerhall?_

"I know that Lady Elsbeth was among the hostages King Daeron took to King's Landing," the boy finally said.

"She was. But perhaps _the King's personal slave_ would be a better description," Vorian said.

"Slavery has been long forbidden in the Seven Kingdoms," Dunk said, the boys looked at him, and he understood. "Oh."

Egg looked stricken. "I did not know," he said.

Vorian did not look mollified and Dunk thought he quite resembled Egg himself when he heard someone talking poorly of his father. "You know nothing, Aegon Targaryen," he said. "Nothing at all."

"Who doesn't know what?" a voice asked from the door.

Red splashed across Dunk's cheeks – he could even feel it himself. Starfall had another character from the tales all right. Lady Aurelia, Lord Dayne's daughter and heir. The fair lady. He had only seen her from afar, save for two times when she had passed close by but it had been enough for him to know that the future Lady of Starfall was as fair as the dawn after which her House had named their sword. She looked a little like Tanselle, but only a little. Dark and lithe like her, that was it. But her hair was spun of silvered gold, or perhaps gilded silver, and flowing like a river around her, although he had seen it hidden under a cap when she had left the castle. From this close, he saw that her eyes were as violet as Egg's. And her father's. But unlike Egg, she could never hide their true colour, no matter the sun and shadows. Her swarthy skin would always make them as bright as stars...

The young man next to her resembled her in hair and eyes but not skin. Dunk had seen Lady Dayne who had come from Essos and now marveled at how different and alike their three children were: Arthur Dayne resembled his father just as much as young Vorian resembled his mother. Which meant that he resembled Aerion. Egg stared at him and Dunk wondered if this was how he longed to see his brother –so frail that the tiniest breeze could carry him through the open window and toss him into the Torrentine. His hair was close cropped – Dunk supposed it had been done to make him more comfortable during his last fever. His face was as pale as no one's face should be, his gait slow and uncertain.

"Who doesn't know what?" he asked again and his eyes moved from Vorian to Egg. For a moment, shock came upon his face and he stumbled, only recovering his balance by his twin sister's quick movement to steady him. A moment later, his face was smooth again. "Very well, I'll leave the two of you to settle it between yourselves. I just wanted to see our guests, now when I'm recovered enough. I am Arthur, Cousin, as you might have guessed already. And I was dying to meet the two of you."

It was quite brave of him to invoke death so casually when it awaited him so close, just behind the corner. Egg smiled back, good manners and perhaps pity winning over the desire to keep the grudge going. "I am sure we have met before," he said. "But, understandably, I can't remember the occasion."

Arthur grinned. "Quite understandably indeed!" he agreed. "Vorian, you are wanted at the forge," he said. "They're going to shoe Steel and as you know, he's going to calm down if you're near."

Egg stood as well. "I'll go and take care that our horses are shoed as well, Ser," he said and while Dunk knew that the horses were just fine, he did not press the matter. If Egg wanted to mend things with Vorian or avoid the Aerion lookalike, Dunk would leave him to it.

As soon as the two boys were out of the door, Arthur dropped on Dunk's bed without asking for permission and raised a shaking hand to his forehead. "I'm fine," he told his sister. "I just overestimated my strength a little, that's it."

"Just a little," Aurelia muttered but did not argue.

Arthur Dayne looked at Dunk and his eyes were intent, fierce. "Don't leave him," he said.

Dunk blinked. "Leave him? Who, I? Why would you…"

"I know," Arthur said. "I see. And what I saw when I looked at him was a burning castle, dragons dead and shrieking to be born and so many, so many lost in the torch that this castle became…" He paused and drew a hand across his forehead. It came down wet. "Perhaps he will be there," he finally said. "Or perhaps it will be him who will do it. But given what we know about Targaryens, who would even try to stop the one who will order this horror?"

_Prince Baelor would have_ , Dunk thought even as he nodded and swore that he'd protect Egg at all costs, all the time wondering where this had come upon him as well. Everything in life conspired to keep him close to a boy who he was trying very hard not to get too fond of. It would hurt too much when Egg left, as people always did.

Lady Aurelia stirred from her place at the window and stared hard at her brother. "What did you see, Arthur?" she asked intently. "What else?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. This is the truth, Aurelia, nothing."

_Oh no, it isn't,_ Dunk thought as the fair-as-the-dawn pair of twins crossed gazes in a silent combat of will which Aurelia looked as if she would lose. Before she could, Dunk blurted out the first thing to come to his mind. "Prince Daeron has visions, like you, m'lord, but he is…" He stopped and cursed his tongue, as clumsy as the rest of him. But neither of them looked surprised.

"I know," Arthur said. "I knew him when we were children, and now I think he has it harder than me. I only got the vision of the First Men whose blood flows through my veins after the thunder killed me and the river almost carried me away and this, one can live with, just like the Targaryens can live with their dragon visions. But someone who has inherited both…" He shuddered. " I don't think he even needed near-death to open his third eye. I think he was born seeing with it. I can't even imagine."

"You'd better not," his sister snapped. "Let our cousin take care of himself. You are the one you should be focused on."

"I _am_ focused," he said patiently. "I won't die, I'm telling you, so all of you can just stop worrying."

_Is it this easy,_ Dunk wondered as before his eyes, a tremor started from the tips of Arthur's fingers and spread upward, to his neck and face. The other boy did not seem to notice it, though. He was staring at the sword Egg had been polishing with such longing that Dunk had to look away. The men at the practice yard still talked of Arthur's amazing prowess before the mishap.

"We should go," Lady Aurelia said, trying for composure and failing. She had noticed her brother's state as well.

"You're free to go," he replied but without the patience or focus of before. Dunk realized that his eyes had moved to the miniatures Egg had been showing Vorian before the matter of Lady Elsbet came along, the ones they had taken from his brother Aemon at Oldstown. "Who is she?" he asked and Dunk rose and went there to look.

"This is the lad's sister, I think," he said. "One of them, at any case."

Lady Aurelia also came to have a look and when she lowered her eyes, her hair fell down in a heavy curtain and brushed against Dunk's arm. The blush crept up his cheeks again and only intensified when he felt the scent she wore – something that reminded him of flowers and the river flowing under this castle.

"Rhae," she said. "It reads Rhae, here," she added, pointing at the tiny lines that looked like snake adornments to Dunk. But he saw that Arthur was disheartened by his failure to spot them and wondered what it felt like to be his own age and going to die. "She's rather sweet," Aurelia commented and Dunk agreed. "Are we going?"

Arthur put the miniature aside with great care and rose. They had made it to the door when he stopped, swayed unsteadily and died.

Aurelia's scream gathered all of Starfall to them. Those who the tiny chamber could not fit crowded in the hall. Lord Dayne knelt at his son's side. A pale-faced maester rushed to them and all around, Dunk heard the horrified murmur that this time, it was the end. This time, Arthur's heart would not start beating again.

"Here!" Ultor Dayne said sharply. "That's it. That's a good boy. Come on, come on, keep going!"

Dunk thought that the man had gone mad with grief but the maester wiped the sweat off his forehead the moment Dunk noticed the very faint tightening of Arthur's fingers in his father's as he scrambled his way back to life.

 


	5. Paths of Loyalty

It took Arthur Dayne two days of rest in a dark room to regain some strength after his last collision with the Stranger. But when he emerged, he went straight to the practice yard and Dunk’s feeling of unease at the thought that he was under the watchful eye of someone who had been spared by the dark deity soon turned into sheer shame, as if he was guilty by the virtue of being healthy when Arthur’s too bright eyes stopped hungrily on this or that weapon. The ones he could no longer use. Dunk wondered if he was not practicing with one of Arthur’s own discarded blades right now but if so, the other young man didn’t say anything.

“I’ll recover and hold a sword again very soon,” Arthur said, as if reading his mind, and Dunk nodded because he did not know what to say. The master-at-arms abruptly turned aside, shielding his face from view.

“I’m very glad to hear this, my lord,” Dunk finally said.

“Don’t call me this,” Arthur said sharply and Dunk was left to wonder just how odd Dornishmen were – to have highborn insulted by an address that made the not so highborn swoon with delight. Instead of trying to figure it out, he focused on his swordplay, feeling even more awkward in front of the boy who had been acclaimed as an immense talent, in all the knights’ opinion, as well as the master-at-arms’ and Vorian’s – Dunk’s acquaintance with Egg had made him gain some newfound respect for boys’ opinion of late!

“Do we have any news from the rest of the realm?” Arthur asked, turning to the maester who had crept in almost immediately after him to discreetly keep an eye on him.

“Nothing good,” the middle-aged man replied and Arthur shook his head that he did not want to hear anything more. Of course he would not want to hear grisly news – he had no one to worry over here and he had no one to be concerned over. Dunk wondered if _he_ had someone to worry over. His old mates at Flea Bottom? He could barely remember their faces, although some events from their shared past were as fresh in his mind as if they had taken place only yesterday. He prayed that Tanselle and her troupe had found their way to the safety of Dorne but even to find her, he could not leave the boy – and Lord Dayne would never let the boy leave now.

The day had the stinging heat of late summer, although it was just spring. Soon, sweat came pouring off Dunk and he blinked it away from his eyes.

“Did a raven from King’s Landing arrive?” Lord Dayne asked, striding in. Dunk noticed how his first glance went to his son, quick, agonizing, and wondered what it would feel like to have a father looking at him like this.

“No,” the maester replied and Lord Dayne nodded.

“I wasn’t expecting one anyway. He was always a cautious one, Maekar. He wouldn’t risk sending a bird here without knowing for sure that birds could not carry the disease on their wings.”

Dunk blinked again, not because of sweat but the matter-of-fact tone of the man who had never had anything good to say of Prince Maekar for years, if household knights could be believed.

“Aurelia is leaving in about an hour,” Ultor Dayne went on. “Do you have something for her that she should give to the maesters in Sunspear?”

“No, my lord.”

Dunk’s first reaction was disappointment. The fair lady was leaving. During the last two days, he had not had even a glimpse at her but the knowledge of her being close by had given him some strange sense of comfort. It was quite different than the emotions Tanselle had awoken in him. Tanselle who was not too tall for him.

Lady Aurelia was something else, though. She could not truly be thought about like this. She could only be admired from afar. Have feats done in her name. Have lives sacrificed for her. She was… well, she was Lady Aurelia and Dunk was sad to see her go, although she had barely looked at him as she waited for a child groom at the other side of the Red Mountains to grow up.

“Where is Aegon?” Lord Dayne asked and looked around.

Dunk bit back a grin. The man was clearly developing a wise level of caution towards his nephew, as he ought to.

Ultor Dayne noticed the expression and nodded. “Yes,” he said. “The boy is my sister and Maekar’s and the Seven know that these two were superb at causing trouble.”

Dunk’s smile faded. He would not call causing the death of the heir of the realm mere trouble and yet…

“Prince Maekar did not do it on purpose,” he heard his own voice and Lord Dayne frowned.

“Well, of course he did not!” he replied which, for a man as hostile to Maekar as him, was quite unexpected. “When I say trouble, I mean trouble. Like that time when my team’s strategy in the melee at a tourney included me shading him, so I could not do much to help – but he could not do much either! I stuck to him like resin, he could never take a breath. We ended up trashing each other after the tourney – after he had asked my sister if there were some pieces of furniture that she wanted us to be careful about!”

The master-at-arms shook his head in disgust. Arthur laughed outright. Dunk wondered if Prince Baelor had taken his brother’s temper and mindset into account when he had decided to take the risk for a mere hedge knight and again felt guilt and shame.

“You were lucky,” Arthur told his father. “An entertaining melee. I never saw one.”

“Because they usually aren’t,” Lord Dayne replied and his expression darkened. “The peace in the realm was almost shattered once, before Daemon Blackfyre rebelled, because of a melee. Then, we saw how much King Daeron’s assurances of equality and welcome were worth.”

The bitterness in his voice caught Dunk unaware. Throughout his life, he had heard much muttering and resentment about the Dornish and their influence with the King, Queen Mariah being considered the actual power behind Daeron’s throne. It had never been suggested to him that any Dornish could feel a victim of injustice – they were the ones inflicting injustice on others with their very presence in King’s Landing and…

“Do we have to get back to this again?” Arthur’s voice was rather tired. “Yes, I know, it was obvious, Doman Manwoody got trampled on without warning and it was all glossed over – but it’s been fifteen years since then! How long are you going to seethe, Father?”

“Till the day I die,” Ultor snapped and for the first time, in the look that encompassed his son with there was no concern, no softness. “You were lucky to never have been in our position, lad, and for this I’m grateful – but you really should not talk about it, you know. I hope you never get attacked like we do – and then refused justice by none other than the King himself.”

Refused justice? Dornish people? By none other than Daeron, nicknamed Daeron the Good? Dunk must have looked so stunned that Ultor Dayne started explaining angrily, his voice and words being so captivating that Dunk utterly failed to notice the arrival of Egg who sat down next to him silently, wanting to hear. And only when the boy started squirming in unspoken protest, he realized just how torn Egg must be feeling, much like when he heard people talk disparagingly of his father. Now, it was his grandfather who was the target of resentment, and from the most unexpected place possible – the brother of the boy’s own mother. Egg looked like a bone tugged in two directions by two different dogs – his own loyalties. Amused all of a sudden despite the ghastly tale, Dunk wondered when Egg would face a similar split in loyalties again – and then wondered why it mattered. The boy was just the fourth son of a fourth son. His loyalties and struggles were not likely to affect anyone else but himself.


	6. Dark Sails and New Ways

The  black sails appeared mid-morning and while everyone’s first reaction was that this must be a pirate ship, the sunlight dancing over the three-headed dragon and turning the flames erupting from their mouths into real fire, at least visibly, soon brought an end to the puzzlement as to why a sole pirate ship would be so foolish to appear here so brazenly, and the man in the small boat sent to the shore made it clearer yet.

“Well, if you ask my lady grandmother, the difference is next to none,” Arthur whispered to Dunk but he made sure that Egg could not hear him. Not that the boy would – he was too busy scowling and declaring that he would not go back, although the Queen his grandmother had come to collect him in person. Dunk was not sure that it was this simple. The closed passes meant that the usual routes of rumours and news were also closed. Instead, they had to rely on ravens which basically left the news solely in the hands of Lord Dayne, his maester, and whomever they decided to share them with – and princes of eight and their clumsy, dumb protectors were not among the chosen.

But he was not so dumb as to think that the Queen had come for Egg. Not in this time of plague. And how would she know where he was anyway? Not that the boy would listen to him if told. Sometimes, Dunk got the feeling that Egg would need three clouts in the ear per day for the next ten years if he was to part with some of his self-importance!

Queen Mariah, Princess of House Martell, crossed the gates of Starfall when the sun was in its peak, wrapping her in an aura of liquid gold and light. Lord Dayne met her just outside with a low bow. Around him, the hats of his men were sweeping the ground.

“Welcome to Starfall, Your Grace,” he said as Dunk was busy to take in her stunning  resemblance to her late son. Baelor had indeed been her male double. Uncannily so.

“A ghost! She’s a ghost!”someone gasped and Dunk almost agreed before he realized that they did not mean the Queen. Many eyes were drawn to the small, pale girl following Mariah – and of those, many were scared.

Egg looked confused. “A ghost? Rhae?” he asked dismissively but when he saw how his sister looked down, he became indignant. As he was striding towards them, met with his sister’s delighted gasp and his grandmother’s surprised smile, Lord Dayne took the situation under control.

“No, she isn’t Dyanna’s ghost,” he said. “Just her daughter. Welcome to Starfall, child. We’re all so happy to see you.”

Dunk thought that the old Lady Dayne looked less joyous and more ready to faint.

 

Just an hour later, the situation got clear. The Queen had not come to fetch Egg at all – the boy looked a little dejected upon discovering this. She and Rhae had been returning from Lys, she explained between mouthfuls of fish that she proclaimed the best she had tasted in years and that Dunk would still not put in his mouth because he’d never heal from the burns. They had been returning from Lys, Mariah went on, magnificently neglecting to mention the reason for their being in Essos, although everyone looking at her granddaughter would realize that it had had something to do with the little girl’s health, when King Daeron had refused them entry to the port of King’s Landing, instead ordering them back to the safety of Essos.

 _And of course, they ended up here_ , Dunk thought, not surprised at all. Two of the royal lady’s sons had managed to surprise him in their brief acquaintance – and her grandson would never stop doing so, it seemed. The Queen’s determination to make her way through one of the Dornish passes came as something natural to him… but he was not the only one to think so, clearly. Prince Maekar had expected something like this, sending ravens with brief notes to all Dornish Houses whose seats bordered the sea, “The Queen my mother should not leave.” Curt and clear. Mariah was clearly enraged.

“So you’re going to follow my son’s command over mine?” she asked, her voice very even.

Lord Dayne stirred uncomfortably in his seat. “I can’t remember a single case where Maekar has not acted with his father’s blessing, my lady.”

“But this note was not from my husband,” Mariah reminded him. “So what? Am I expected to leave?”

He shook his head. “I am more than glad to offer you my hospitality, Your Grace. Starfall has not had the privilege of a royal visit since before Maekar was betrothed to Dyanna.”

A small smile crept to her lips. “I remember,” she said. “He told me that your lot had considered throwing him in the sea, instead of facing the consequences of assaulting him.”

Ultor returned the smile. “It was one of Dyanna’s not so bright ideas,” he agreed. “I suppose he also told you this?”

“He might have mentioned it.” She looked as if she were trying to remember. Then, her expression became serious. “Don’t tell me that you have lost your bravery with my son over the years?”

Lord Dayne considered this, the goblet of wine forgotten in his hand. “I might have,” he replied at last. “I cannot let you go through the passes, Your Grace. And I don’t think it’s a good idea to wander around the shores in your ship, waiting for the plague to pass.”

She sighed. “ I suppose you’re right,” she said. “I’ll try to use my time here for something good, my lord. And I do think Rhae’s going to enjoy her stay here as much as her brother does.”

Amused, Dunk noticed that she looked unaware that the boy’s staying here was not voluntary. Egg avoided his eye. For the life of his, he’d never admit that he had started liking his maternal kin well enough to want to spare them any friction. He even looked a little proud as he brought his sister to the portrait gallery to show her the images of their mother. Once again, Dunk realized that the resemblance between Lady Dyanna and her daughter was beyond stunning. The creeping shadows in the gallery, though, made him shudder as they touched Rhae’s pale skin. She had been very ill. Perhaps she still was. And her mother had died of illness well before her time.

“Do you still spit blood?” Egg asked in a low voice and Rhae shook her head.

“I haven’t, for a while. I do feel better. But Grandmother’s care… she thinks I’m going to get ill again and die. I can tell. And then I start think that perhaps I will. I am scared to go to sleep at night.”

“You aren’t going to die,” the boy said but he did not sound convincing. “Arthur has been about to die, or so everyone thinks. But he didn’t.”

Her face lit up. “Really? Do you think I can ask him what it feels like?”

He looked clearly uncomfortable. “I… I really don’t think you should…” he started, regretting this bit of oversharing already but in the Queen’s solar where they were all invited later, she did just that.

“I don’t know,” Arthur replied, not shaken by her question at all, it seemed. “I’ve never been about to die. I did die, a few times.”

Her eyes were wide with curiosity and painful interest. “And what was it like?”

He shrugged. “Not this bad. Not even painful. Coming back to life does hurt, though. But I very much prefer being alive, as non-frightening as dying is.”

Rhae was staring at him hard, as if trying to gauge words against tone of voice against set of lips against movements of eyes. “You aren’t lying, are you?” she demanded. “And don’t tell me that you never lie. Everyone does. My septa says so.”

Arthur laughed without any embarrassment. “Your septa is a smart woman, Princess,” he said. “But just today, and right now, I am not lying. Dying isn’t frightening at all. Mildly uncomfortable, that’s it.”

His parents, Lady Elsbet, and the Queen were not thrilled with the conversation but Rhae examined him some more and smiled. “I have decided that you aren’t lying,” she declared magnanimously and he bowed his head, as if accepting a great honour.

“For this, I would have elbowed her,” Egg said as close to Dunk’s ear as he could get. “And then, Father would have said that _I_ should apologize.”

Considering what the boy had told him about Aerion, Dunk felt that Rhae’s peculiarities were rather harmless. But when, upon leaving, the Queen wished for him to stay, he felt that he was going straight in harm’s way. Egg seemed to feel it as well because he tried to linger in the solar but his grandmother would have none of it.

The door closing on the boy felt like the gate of a prison. Dunk slowly looked down and down yet. Mariah Martell was far from tall and he made a few steps back because else, he would have to bend in two and she would likely get a constant straining in her neck from trying to look upward at him.

What should he tell her? That he was sorry? It would be so inadequate. That he wished that he had died, instead of Prince Baelor? She would not care, save for say that she wished it had happened this way. But now, he was no longer sure that it was true, to his eternal shame. Then? What?

“I am sorry, Your Grace,” he said at last, clumsily. “The blame is mine. I…”

“Never say that.” Her voice was harsh, although her face had gone white, and whipped in the silence of the solar like a lash. He recoiled by the resentment in her eyes, as brief as it was. A moment later, the Queen had her emotions under control and went on, “Because if you do, Ser, people will use it against you… and Maekar, of course. And if you repeat it in front of me, I’ll be more likely to believe it, believe that it was not a whim of the Seven but a blame of two people… and yours will be greater, of course. He’s my son,” she added matter-of-factly and paused again. “Now, tell me about your life on the road with Aegon. I’m going to ask him, of course, but he’s like his mother, always ready to make a story out of a whisper and believe it too often for my liking. I want to hear more than his version. I want to hear about his life and perhaps find out why Maekar decided to place his trust with you.”

It was hard to redirect his thoughts from Baelor to his life with the boy but he tried. And the more he tried, the easier it became. Mariah Martell turned to be as great a listener as her late son and when Dunk left her solar, he was surprised to see that the sun was almost setting. He had spent hours with the Queen.

He did not truly hope to find the boy in the portrait gallery and he did not. But he went past Lord Dayne who was standing in front of his sister’s portrait, so absorbed in the painted face that he did not see or hear anything around. “I miss you,” Dunk heard him say softly. “I miss you for all that has been. I miss you for all that is yet to come. I miss you and I want you to come back…”

The dying sun was taking away any of his years, making him look so much like Aerion that Dunk barely stopped himself from going over to him for reassurance that the Bright Prince was still in Essos. But his voice sounded more like his other nephew’s, Daeron’s, when he had been talking of his premonitions. Just for a moment, Dunk wondered if the plague was not preferable to this place of ghosts.

At the other end of the gallery, near the double doors, Arthur had stopped in front of a tapestry of a Dayne from over five hundred years ago to wait for Rhae who was coming down the hallway, obviously headed for him. Her face was very serious but this time, it was also serene.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen now,” she said. “Or when I’m going to leave here. But I will always remember that death is not frightening. And when I grow up, I’ll wed you.”


End file.
